


We're Gonna Howl At The Moon

by Lilnerd3696



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Comments are welcome, Crossover, Fenrir!Stiles, Im so sorry it took this long, Immortal Stiles Stilinski, It's mentioned but not in detail, Kinda, Non-Graphic Violence, Wolf!Derek, Wolf!Stiles, but ill put it in the tags just in case, in the last chapter tho, will add tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-29
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-10 02:15:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5565262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilnerd3696/pseuds/Lilnerd3696
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Roughly 1500 years ago, Hela broke Fenrir's shackles and sent him to Midgard to live a normal life. Well, as normal as he could get. He'd found it easier to plead ignorance about the supernatural, as if he knew, there were bound to be questions asking how he knew. And he couldn't exactly tell them the truth now could he?</p><p>Anyway, back to the Alpha getting ready to rip his throat out."</p><p>The Fenrir!Stiles Fic i promised Lidil aaggggggeeeeesss ago (i'm so sorry it took this long).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lidil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lidil/gifts).



It was just supposed to be a routine perimeter check.

Derek had 'sensed' something entering the territory, and everyone was sent out to see if they could find it. Find them, actually. As Fenrir stared down the Alpha of the invading pack, he cursed his sister for suggesting that he go Beacon Hills.

\-------------

This was his 23rd life. The one before this, he was a girl living in the frozen country that was Russia. He'd slipped away in his sleep at an old age of 92, and then opened his eyes to Claudia Stilinski's tearful face. The dying and being reborn thing was necessary. Heimdel would notice if someone was suddenly not aging or dying. And he would tell Odin, who would send down some of Asgard's finest to investigate (read: kill or capture). And he couldn't go back. Not to there.

Roughly 1500 years ago, Hela broke Fenrir's shackles and sent him to Midgard to live a normal life. Well, as normal as he could get. He'd found it easier to plead ignorance about the supernatural, as if he knew, there were bound to be questions asking how he knew. And he couldn't exactly tell them the _truth_ now could he?

Anyway, back to the Alpha getting ready to rip his throat out.

\---------

He really wished Allison and Lydia weren't here. Derek had insisted that all the humans (and banshees) were in one group, since they were 'less powerful' than the werewolves. If they weren't here, he could've easily gotten rid of them before anyone else appeared. But now he had to play the ignorant human. Fun.

"Uhh... hi?" He said. _Very eloquent Fenrir_ , he scolded himself. "What are you guys doing here? This is private property you know." _Better._

The Alpha snarled. He towered over Fenrir easily, and if Fenrir were actually human, the Alpha could probably snap his spine in half and use it for a toothpick. "Where's your Alpha?" The werewolf demanded.

"Not here...?" Fenrir shrugged. "Sorry, can't help you at the moment." Invading Alpha (IA? He really needs to get this guy's name) snarled again. One of his Betas edged forwards a bit, her eyes glowing blue. "We should kill them," she suggested. "So they don't warn Alpha Hale."

"Wow." Fenrir eyed the Beta with distrust. "Straight to the killing. That's not very nice."

"Shut up Stiles," Allison commanded, her bow string taunt. He glanced backwards and noticed Lydia had a hand in her purse. Both of them were ready to fight. And so were the invading pack. Fenrir frowned. "Come on Allison. Let's just talk this out-"

"He's stalling," the Beta interrupted. "He's stalling for time. Let's kill them already," she urged. Her face twisted in some weird mix of anger and excitement. Fenrir supposed that she may have been pretty once, but now she wasn't anything but blood lust.

"And again with the killing." Fenrir sighed. "Okay, so listen closely. We don't want to do this. We just got rid of a swam of pixies. Do you know how annoying pixies are?" He asked the Alpha. "Really fucking annoying."

As Fenrir paused for breath, the Alpha looked at the the bloodthirsty beta. She grinned madly, then lunged at Fenrir with her claws swiping towards his throat.

Fenrir had enough time to think _oh shit_ before he felt his body shift.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 AKA I probably overuse Italics.
> 
> THERE WILL BE MORE.  
> Also this is like one and a half pages on Microsoft Word so i thought it was longer than this.

Fenrir was hiding under his bed.

 

Yes, he knew it was childish, and yes he knew that it wouldn’t magically make all his problems go away.  _But it doesn’t hurt to try_ , he thought

 

As much as he wished that all his problems would go away, everyone’s memories of the last 48 hours to disappear, he didn’t have the kind of power to do that. Besides, fucking with peoples’ heads is a big no-no in his book.

 

It just wasn’t _fair!_  He’d just found a place where he could fit in, where he had close friends that knew about the supernatural and who weren’t suspicious that he _did_ know (seeing as he could pretend that Scott being bitten dragged him in). I mean sure, things weren’t perfect. He still missed his mom (Claudia, not his actual mom, although he missed her too), and he and Derek were still on edge around each other. But Beacon Hills was _nice._ He didn’t want to leave.

“Stiles?” His dad poked his head in through the door, unconcerned about the emptiness of the room. The Sheriff knew about Fenrir’s habit to hide under the bed. His heartbeat was calm, and you could barely hear the murmur that made Fenrir so strict about his dad’s eating habits. “Stiles, the Pack’s here. They want to talk to you.”

Fenrir whimpered and pressed his ears against his skull. _They were going to throw him out of the Pack. They were going to yell at him and accuse him of lying (_ which is true, but he didn’t _enjoy_ it!).

The floorboards creaked as the Sheriff leaned into the room. “Stiles? Are you alright, son?” He sounded concerned, and underneath in the lounge Fenrir could hear heartbeats speeding up. _Did they seriously think that he was going to hurt his dad?_ He tried to wiggle further away from his dad, but if he moved any further back he’d be out of the shelter of his bed.

“Should I send them up?” The Sheriff asked, sensing Fenrir’s reluctance to come out from under the bed. Fenrir quickly weighed the pros and cons. On one hand, if his dad sent them up, his dad wouldn’t find out, but he’d be unable to escape without leaving the Pack in his room. On the other, if he left, he could retreat back up to his room if he wanted, but his dad would see him. Of course, he could always shift back to human, but he always felt safer in his fur.

Ridiculous, seeing as everything bad that had happened _before_ had been when he was in wolf form.

He slid out from under his bed, and ignored the sound of his dad’s heart speeding up. “Son?” Fenrir avoided his father’s stare and sneaked out of the room. He managed to get down the stairs rather gracefully and walked into the living room without hesitation. _Better to get this over and done with,_ he thought.

A multitude of different coloured eyes flicked to him as he entered, most of them glowing unnatural shades. Fenrir slunk over to the empty armchair that was obviously left for him and curled up on it. His ears were still flat against his skull. The entire room was silent.

“Would someone like to explain why my son is a wolf?” The Sheriff had followed Fenrir, obviously wanting answers. “We don’t know,” Derek answered. His eyes weren’t glowing red, but his face looked grumpier than usual.

“Derek felt something enter our territory.” Lydia was staring at Fenrir, and he avoided her looks by observing his paws. “Allison, Stiles, and I were one of the groups. We ran into an invading Pack, and they attacked.” She paused, eyes flickering between Fenrir and his dad. “Stiles… shifted and… took out the invading Pack.”

The Sheriff sighed and rubbed his temples. “Took out?” Lydia looked uncomfortable, while Allison seemed intent on staying out of this conversation.

“I killed them.”

Everyone flinched, either at the statement, the tone of voice it was said in, or the fact the Fenrir had spoken. In wolf form.

“You can speak like that?” Isaac questioned.

“Yes I can.” Fenrir looked at him, grateful for an excuse not to look at his father. Or Scott, who hadn’t said a word to or about him. _You knew they’d be the ones who’d hate you the most when the truth came out, so stop acting so surprised._

“What are you?” Derek growled, his eyes finally turning red and his claws starting to grow and dig into the couch. Fenrir decided to answer, if only for the sake of the upholstery.

“My name’s Fenrir, I’m over three thousand years old, and I’ve been running for my life for half of it.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter everyone!  
> If you find any spelling mistakes, please tell me so I can fix them.  
> Also, I made Loki Fenrir's father, not his mother, as Loki only bore Slepnir in mythology, and Fenrir's mother was the Jotun Angrboda.

Lydia paled and slightly leant away from Fenrir, and Allison subtly reached towards one of her hidden knives. Derek started violently and nearly fell of his chair, and stared at the wolf with his Alpha eyes, trying to tell if he was lying. No one else reacted, apart from confused looks at Fenrir, or worried ones at Derek or Lydia.

“Fenrir?”  Isaac asked curiously. “Who’s that?”

“And what do you mean about being three thousand years old?” Erica butted in from her spot on the floor. She’d seen Lydia and Derek’s reactions, and was interested in what Stiles (or ‘Fenrir’) had done to earn that.

Fenrir sighed. He’d hoped to be able to make a break for it after telling them, and letting them figure it out on their own. But with his dad standing in the doorway with an unreadable expression in his face, he figured it’d be a bad idea.

“Fenrir is a giant wolf. He is the son of Loki, who is the Norse God of Lies and Chaos.” Lydia answered.  Her heartbeat was racing. “He was imprisoned by Tyr, and it was foretold that he would escape at _Ragnarök_ and kill Odin.”

Erica opened her mouth to ask another question. “ _Ragnarök_ is the end of the world.” Fenrir said flatly. “The gods will go to war. Natural disasters will wreak havoc on the Nine Realms, and at the end the world will be submerged in water. It is prophesied that I will kill Odin during battle, before being killed by Vidarr, one of his sons.”

The room went quiet. No one knew quite what to say. Then-

“Do you want to?”

Fenrir closed his eyes. _Of course you’d ask that question Scott. Of course it’d be you._ He reluctantly opened his eyes, and found the whole room was staring at him. “Yes.”

Scott blanched at Fenrir’s words. As usual, the thought of killing anyone was incomprehensible to him. A coal lit deep in Fenrir’s chest.

“He banished one of my brothers to the Arctic Ocean, where I cannot visit him because if I do, I’ll be discovered.” He snapped. “He sent my sister to Niflheim, and chained me down for thousands of years with a sword through my mouth. He rides my half-brother and uses him as a common stead. My other half-siblings are dead, one turned into a crazed wolf, who then proceeded to tear the other apart so Odin could use his intestines to tie my father down. He lies in a cave, his wife holding a bowl over his head so snake venom will not drip into his eyes. Odin did all this because of a prophecy, and because we were considered monsters because of our heritage or because of the way we looked.” Fenrir found himself standing up on the chair. “So yes, I do want to kill Odin. Even if it wasn’t prophesied. He _ruined our lives, so I want to ruin his!_ ”

Fenrir leaped off the chair, dimly noticing that his Pack flinched, and the tears in most of their eyes. “I’m going for a run, so if you’re going to disown me or kick me out you’ll have to wait until I get back.”

He went out the back door, grateful that it was nearing midnight, so there’d be a lower chance of being seen. Over fences and around pools and gardens he went, before he found himself in the preserve. A mournful howl was ripped from Fenrir’s throat, and he ran into the woods.

Fenrir ran until the moon was sinking below the horizon and the sky was turning red. He could hear the birds waking up, the leaves rustling in a slight breeze, and the light tread of another wolf coming up behind him.

“What do you want Derek?” He sighed, recognising the Alpha’s scent. “Cause if you’re here to compare tragic backstories then I’m afraid I’m going to have to say no.”

“We aren’t going to kick you out of the Pack.” Fenrir instantly turned around to stare at Derek, and then quickly looked away. _Do NOT look at the naked Derek Hale. Do NOT look at him. NO._

Derek walked up behind Fenrir sat down beside the wolf. “We’re just a bit… shocked. It’s not every day that you find out one of your Pack mates is a Norse God.”

Fenrir gawked at him. “That’s the most words I’ve heard you say that isn’t a battle plan or saying how useless or annoying I am.”

Derek winced. “You’re not useless. I shouldn’t have said that.” He paused for a moment. “I’m not going to say you aren’t annoying though.”

“Was that a joke?” Fenrir asked. “Was that an actual joke? Dear god Derek, keep it up and people might think you’re an actual human being that has _feelings_.” He grinned at the werewolf, who huffed and ignored him. A bird chirped in a nearby tree. A mouse scuttled over the forest floor.

“You really won’t throw me out?” Fenrir cursed himself for sounding so weak. “I mean, if you do, I’ll be able to survive. I’ve done it before, quite a few times actually, so I’ll be able to leave in two hours at the latest, presuming that there’s a bus leaving in those times, cause I don’t think dad will let me take Roscoe-“

“Stiles. We’re not throwing you out.” Derek cut off Fenrir’s babbling. “Lydia’s probably hoping to pick through your brain, and I think the others want to cuddle you.” He seemed to consider something. “Shall we call you Fenrir now?”

“Stiles is fine,” Fenrir croaked. _Those were NOT tears in his eyes thank you very much, because to have tears he’d have to be crying, and he wasn’t crying. Not at all. Wolves couldn’t cry for gods sake._

They sat there for a while, until Fenrir glanced up at Derek and saw a black wolf watching him. “Race you back?”

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any mistakes, please tell me. Thanks!


End file.
